


in memoriam

by cannibalpasta



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Dubious Science, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Memory Loss, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalpasta/pseuds/cannibalpasta
Summary: Avengers: Endgame spoilers!Two months after Tony's death, Peter finds him wandering the streets of New York. A few things are evident as soon as he lays his eyes on him; 1) he's very alive, 2) he's very confused and 3) he's suffering from memory loss.post-Endgame





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi.
> 
> I watched Endgame. This fic is my way of coping. I hope you enjoy!

When Peter saw him for the first time in two months, he almost fell down from the web he had been hanging onto. Mr. Stark was right there, wandering down an empty street, with a glassy look in his eyes. He looked ragged and pale, especially in the dark of the night with only streetlights there to illuminate him.

 _"Tony,"_ Peter had gasped, before scrambling to alter his course, swinging so he could reach the man walking. "Tony!" he repeated, louder this time, since his lungs seemed to finally be working as they should.

He landed just behind the man and ran after him, pulling off his mask as he did. "Mr. Stark!" he called, grasping the man's shoulder. He pulled him back, darting around to face him and....it really was him. Not just someone that resembled him, which had happened to Peter a few times. It was _Mr. Stark_ , standing there before him, his heart beating a steady rhythm in his chest, soothing Peter with the sound of it.

"Oh, my God," he had gasped in disbelief, then thrown his arms around the other man and buried his face in his neck, letting out an ugly sob as tears filled his eyes.

But something was going on. There was something.... _wrong,_ Peter could tell. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was there, right below the surface. He could _sense_ it. After a moment, he manged to force his limbs to release Mr. Stark, and then he could see it on the blank look on the man's face.

"Mr. Stark...?" he asked, the tears threatening to spill over. Mr. Stark just kept looking at him and no recognition lit up his face. Peter's hands moved around, frantically touching Mr. Stark's shoulders, arms, chest — _anything_ , to convince himself that this was the real deal. Anything, to comfort Mr. Stark and make him snap out of whatever reverie he was experiencing.

"Mr. Stark, it's Peter," Peter said, choked it out more like, harshly reminded of those last moments he'd spent with his mentor before his death. "Do you...do you remember me?"

Finally, Mr. Stark seemed to focus on him, the fog somewhat clearing from his eyes, "I'm sorry, kid," he said, and the voice and the words were so familiar Peter wanted to bawl his eyes out just hearing them, "I don't think I know you."

Peter couldn't help it; he gasped for breath at the sudden pain stabbing at his chest. Tears were streaming down his face now, and there was no way he would be able to stop them. He rubbed his hands up and down Mr. Stark's arms, equally to comfort himself as well as Mr. Stark.

"That's, that's okay," he said, voice trembling, even though it wasn't. It was so far away from okay that Peter wanted to scream. "Do you remember anything? About what happened?"

Mr. Stark blinked. "No, I...about what? I just remember waking up and uhm...I begun walking around?" His answer was troubling to Peter, but Mr. Stark looked confused more than anything. Confused in a calm, very unlike himself way.

"Where did you wake up, Tony?" Peter asked, looking up and down Mr. Stark's form. He looked like he was in pain, but there were no blood or missing limbs, which Peter was grateful for. He was dressed in plain gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, with only socks covering his feet. He carried his right arm close to his body. Peter eyed the heavy scarring on one side of Mr. Stark's face and felt ill.

"I don't know," Mr. Stark replied to Peter's question, watching their surroundings like the conversation was boring him. "Somewhere underground."

Peter blanched. "Like in a grave?" he asked hastily.

Mr. Stark shook his head. "No, like a....a weird basement."

Peter blinked rapidly for a moment, trying to make sense of what the man before him was saying. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I think I need to make a few calls," he pulled out his phone, glancing down at it but only managing for a short moment before he had to look at Mr. Stark again, in fear of him just disappearing from right in front of him.

He took his mentor's arm and started walking. "Please, have a seat here," he said when they reached the closest flight of stairs and helped Mr. Stark down to sit on the steps.

"Thanks, kid," Mr. Stark replied, smiling warmly up at him, then returning to stare at the darkness that surrounded them. Peter dialed the number he needed, but couldn't otherwise tear his eyes away from the man. A fresh wave of tears blurred his vision.

 _"Peter?"_ answered a familiar voice.

"H-hi, Pepper," Peter greeted, breathless as he tried to contain his sobs, "You won't believe what just happened."

 

* * *

 

"Could you please drink something, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, trying to gain the attention of his mentor. Mr. Stark kept focusing on everything else except the piece of bread and glass of water Peter and Aunt May had placed before him. Right now, he was looking at the walls and humming something under his breath. "Mr. Stark?"

"How long did Dr. Banner say it would take him?" May asked, her hands anxiously switching places as if she couldn't decide how to hold herself. Her eyes were red from crying, but she seemed to be holding up as good as one would expect.

"It shouldn't be long now," Peter replied, his own hands moving to Mr. Stark's shoulders. "Tony, please," he said, since Mr. Stark seemed to respond to 'Tony' better than to 'Mr. Stark', all the while he barely responded to either of them. "Please, have some water."

Mr. Stark met his eyes briefly, then nodded, glancing down at the table, "Okay," he said and reached for the glass. Peter grabbed it when Mr. Stark almost knocked it over, and held his hand over his mentor's as he took a sip.

He met May's gaze over Mr. Stark's head; his anguish over the situation was mirrored in Aunt May's eyes.

The doorbell rang, and after a final glance at Peter and Mr. Stark, May hurried over to answer it. "Coming!"

Peter recognized Dr. Banner's urgent tone even before he saw the man, "Where is he?"

May lead him to their small kitchen and Peter raised his gaze from Mr. Stark when they entered; in their small home, Dr. Banner looked larger than Peter had remembered him being, but the green of his skin was less vibrant; Peter supposed that would be because of the shock of seeing Mr. Stark sitting there in the Parkers' kitchen.  _Alive._

"Tony?" Dr. Banner asked, taking a step towards them. Mr. Stark, predictably, didn't react to the name.

"He doesn't remember anything," Peter reminded him; he'd briefly gone over the details on the phone with everyone he'd had time to call.

Dr. Banner nodded at him, glancing down at the floor. "Yeah, right, you said that," he said, sounding disappointed. He walked over to them, gingerly sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. His right arm, much like Mr. Stark's, was cradled close to his body, but unlike Mr. Stark's it was secured there by a sling.

Peter watched as Dr. Banner slowly reached out and touched Mr. Stark's shoulder. Mr. Stark turned his head to look at the other man. Dr. Banned gasped in a breath.

"Hi," he said, and his voice was wavery and fond. "Hi, Tony. I'm...I'm Bruce. I'm here to check you up."

"Hi," Mr. Stark greeted back, then turned his attention back to the tablecloth. Dr. Banner blinked back what looked like an onslaught of tears, then frowned at the action.

"Has he been like this since you found him?" he asked Peter, his left hand deftly opening his bag and pulling out a penlight.

"Yeah, he has," Peter replied, moving to stand behind Mr. Stark again. He placed a hand on his shoulder blade. It was killing him that that was all he could do. "Are you gonna help him?" he asked, voice breaking.

Dr. Banner looked him in the eye, looking about as heartbroken as Peter felt. "Yeah, Peter," he said hoarsely, "I am." He looked down at Mr. Stark again. "First, let's check his eyes. I'm thinking he might have suffered a head injury, a concussion, perhaps, but I'll have to check to be sure."

Peter nodded and rubbed Mr. Stark's shoulder. "Tony?"

"Tony," Dr. Banner called as well, "Could you look at me for a moment, please?"

Mr. Stark turned to look at Dr. Banner again. "Thank you, Tony." To Peter, he said, "Hold his chin, please," before shining the light into his eyes.

Mr. Stark spluttered and tried to twist away, but Peter held onto his chin fast and Dr. Banner was quick with the examination. When Peter let go, Mr. Stark bowed his head down and rubbed at his eyes with his left hand. Peter rubbed his shoulder in apology, feeling guilty.

"His pupils are dilated," Dr. Banner said, setting down his penlight. "Tony, do you remember hitting your head?"

Mr. Stark didn't react to the question, so Dr. Banner reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Tony, do you—"

"Don't touch me!" Mr. Stark snapped, leaning away from Dr. Banner. "I don't know you."

"Tony—" Peter began, but Mr. Stark spoke over him,

"I'm not Tony. I don't know who that is." He craned his neck to look up at Peter; he looked unhappy, but less confused now.

"Okay," Dr. Banner conceded, and Mr. Stark turned back to him, "I'm sorry. What would you like to be called?"

At once, the confusion returned to Mr. Stark's face, this time accompanied by shame. He seemed more coherent now, but Peter wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing — at least not when it came to getting Mr. Stark to agree to medical procedures or bargaining him into eating something or sleeping. Peter knew that from experience.  
  
"I don't know. It doesn't matter," Mr. Stark replied in the end, sniffing indignantly and turning back to the tablecloth.

Dr. Banner sighed and Peter was inclined to agree with him. He studied his mentor, wondering whether he was always like this after a possible concussion, or whether this was some side effect of rising from the grave. Peter realized he didn't want to think about it, not if it entailed Mr. Stark in a coffin or dead in any other shape or form.

"Hey," he said and rubbed Mr. Stark's shoulder again. Mr. Stark glanced up at Peter, looking like he'd forgotten he still stood behind him. Peter tried to conjure up a reassuring smile for him. "Can I touch your head? I'm just gonna check if you've hurt yourself."

After a brief contemplation, Mr. Stark nodded, although his eyes followed Peter's hands warily as he raised them.

"Just tell me if anything hurts, okay?" Mr. Stark nodded and Peter buried his hands in his hair. The moment he did, Mr. Stark seemed to relax, the tension leaving his frame. Peter smiled again, and this time it came easier. "That feel okay?"

Mr. Stark hummed. When Peter's fingers passed over a goose egg near the hairline of his temple, he hissed and pulled away.

"Sorry," Peter said, moving with the older man and gently parting the hair to see if there was any blood. Mr. Stark's hair was clean and not noticeably longer than what Peter remembered it being when he'd last seen him.

"No blood," he told Dr. Banner once he let go of Mr. Stark. Dr. Banner nodded.

"That's good," he said, but his expression remained somber, "Still, blood or no blood, a head wound is serious nonetheless."

"Could that be the cause of his memory loss? A head wound, that is," May asked.

"It could be," Dr. Banner replied, "It could also be something else." He turned his attention back to Mr. Stark. "Hey, buddy," he called, and got Mr. Stark's attention when Peter patted his shoulder. "Could you tell me what year it is?"

Mr. Stark shrugged his shoulder, "2023."

"And where are we?"

"Uhm," Mr. Stark hesitated, "I'm not really sure. Probably somewhere in the US."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Mr. Stark was looking around the room now. "I don't know. I think I had some of that water there."

Dr. Banner was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded and glanced at May and Peter. "I believe he's suffering from retrograde amnesia, in addition to the concussion."

"And that means...?" Peter asked, hands on Mr. Stark's shoulders again. He hoped holding onto his mentor would stop the trembling in them.

"Uh, I'm not really this kind of a doctor, so it's a little hard to explain, but basically—"

A sudden orange glow cut him off, as Dr. Stephen Strange stepped into the room through a portal.

"Basically," he continued Dr. Banner's earlier statement, ignoring Aunt May's startled step back and the death glare that followed, "it means that he's lost his episodic memory preexisting the trauma he has experienced, but the semantic memory is most likely intact."

The three of them were still staring at him in confusion (Mr. Stark was inspecting his left hand) and Dr. Strange seemed to misinterpret their stare, since he continued,

"In other words, he won't have memories of any specific events that took place or the people he knew before the trauma, but he'll know how to tie his shoes or read a newspaper." He indicated to Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. "Also, like you said, probably some lingering effects from that concussion. It would explain the confusion and the short-term memory loss he's experiencing."

Peter shook his head and huffed loudly. All heads turned to look at him now.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice was strained even to his own ears, on the verge of breaking from controlling his volume; were Mr. Stark not in the room, he probably wouldn't have even bothered. "I for sure didn't call you. You're the reason he's like this anyway, so why would you bother coming? To gloat? Or, are you feeling guilty?"

"Peter..." Aunt May tried, but Peter couldn't listen to her right now.

"Get out of here. We don't want your help," he barked at Strange, voice shaking.

"Peter, please—" Dr. Banner begun levelly. Peter wasn't having it.

"No!" he snapped at him, "No, this is his fault, and I'm not gonna let him get near Tony again! He shouldn't even be here, he should—" he cut himself off when tentative fingers touched the hand he still had on Mr. Stark's shoulder. He looked down at his mentor.

"Are you upset?" Mr. Stark asked him, and Peter couldn't do other than blink owlishly down at him. "It'll be okay," he continued and patted Peter's hand.

Tears filled Peter's eyes again. He bit his lip to keep himself from turning into a sobbing mess. Even in this condition, it was Mr. Stark that managed to console Peter, and not the other way around.

And _God_ ,how that made him feel bad about himself. And yet he couldn't stop thinking about how much he had missed it. How much he had missed _Tony._

"Yeah," he croaked at Mr. Stark, "It'll be okay."

Mr. Stark smiled at him and returned to daydreaming about something.

Peter took advantage of the quiet that had overcome the room and quietly pulled himself together. He met Dr. Strange's steady gaze after that.

"Okay," he said. Dr. Strange just nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! How did you like the chapter?
> 
> Come say hi on [my Tumblr.](https://cannibalpasta.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> Sorry, this chapter took a little longer than I anticipated. Here it is now, however :) Also, I changed the chapters for this fic from 3 to 4, since I think the conclusion is going to be a bit longer than what I previously planned.
> 
> I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

"But we buried him!" Dr. Banner exclaimed, circling the room with his hand plastered on his forehead. Peter let his eyes trail after him; his movements were sharper and jerkier than usual, and all the calm he had displayed in Mr. Stark's presence seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

"Did we?" Pepper countered him, standing firmly to one side of the room. Her face was pale, but Peter wasn't surprised to see her being the first one to get to the point. She was notorious for asking the tough questions, for saying the things no one wanted to hear. "He was buried in a closed casket because of the burns. Did any of us actually see the body going under the ground? Not just the casket?"

Just discussing the matter was causing chills to wander up and down Peter's spine. Whether Mr. Stark had or had not been inside the casket when they had put him in the ground didn't matter. Both options seemed equally horrible, to Peter. All in all, Mr. Stark's burial and the funeral service were things he tended to avoid thinking about.

"Were either of you with the body when it.... _he_ was at the funeral home?" Bruce asked, looking at Pepper and Mr. Rhodes in turns.

Pepper shook her head while Mr. Rhodes replied, "No. I don't think anyone went to see the body there." He sounded like he was ashamed of the fact. Peter watched as Pepper rubbed his shoulder consolingly.

"We didn't think we needed to," Pepper replied. "Also, it was just too..." she trailed off, but Peter could fill in the gaps. Too much. Too painful. Too heartbreaking. Too _agonizing_.

His breathing hitched as he tried to swallow down a sob. He couldn't stop thinking about the way light had gone out of Mr. Stark's eyes when he had last seen him. Of the casket being lowered into the ground. Of the flower wreath floating on the surface of the lake. _"Oh, God,"_ he said softly, looking down at the floor.

He was being an idiot. Mr. Stark was alive, and Peter was still in mourning after his death.

"Oh, Peter," Pepper said, suddenly right there next to him. He allowed her to pull him into her arms. It wasn't like Aunt May's hug, but it was a good hug, and he twined his arms around her waist, hiding his face against her shoulder.

"W-what if—"

"Shh," Pepper hushed him, "Tony will be alright. We'll all be alright."

Peter wanted to believe her. He really did.

 

* * *

 

It took half an hour longer until Dr. Strange and the SHIELD medics finally let them out of the waiting room and into Mr. Stark's room. Happy had arrived during that time and he was fiddling with his cufflinks as they entered, radiating the same agitated energy Pepper and Mr. Rhodes were; they were the only ones in the room that hadn't yet had the chance to catch even a glimpse of Mr. Stark.

When they finally stepped in, Mr. Stark was leaning back in his hospital bed, awake but clearly not going to remain that way for very long. Dr. Strange stopped them at the door.

"Physically, he's fine," he said as a couple of nurses pushed past them to leave the room, "A little dehydrated, but we're taking care of that with an IV. If you get him to drink some water that would be good, too. We also found some bruising, but nothing that won't heal."

He paused for a minute, his mouth pressed into a hard line. "About thirty percent of his body is covered in second and third degree burns that seem to have all healed completely. The burns are especially centered on the right side of his body."

Peter and the rest knew all of that, but it didn't make it any less horrifying to hear. Peter tried to shake off the mental image as Dr. Strange continued,

"Right now he's exhausted, so keep your introductions brief so he can get some rest."

"Thank you, Dr. Strange," Pepper said, her eyes glued to Mr. Stark's form in the bed. Mr. Rhodes and Happy were inching around the rest of them, both approaching Mr. Stark warily with tears in their eyes. "What, uhm, what about his memory?"

"We took some scans and found nothing wrong with his brain," Dr. Strange said. "It's psychological, most likely."

"But will his memory return?" Peter asked impatiently. Dr. Strange turned his piercing gaze to him. Peter fidgeted, feeling like he was being analyzed as the man took his time answering.

"It could," he said eventually, "It is also possible that it will not. The brain is a tricky thing, Mr. Parker."

"Could you help him?" Dr. Banner asked. "You know, with the—" he gestured with his hands, wiggling his fingers towards Dr. Strange.

Dr. Strange looked like he disapproved of Dr. Banner's gesturing, but didn't comment on it. "Not likely. I could try, but...like I said, it's tricky. The brain."

After that, they bid him goodbye as Dr. Strange left through a portal. Peter turned to look at Mr. Rhodes and Happy crowding around Mr. Stark, holding his hand or touching his shoulder, as if trying to make sure he was really there. They were discussing something softly amongst themselves; Mr. Stark didn't seem to recognize them, but he seemed relaxed and content in their presence.

The two of them moved back when Pepper walked over to the bed. Peter watched as Mr. Stark looked up and met her gaze. She seemed to give him pause and hope flared anew in Peter's chest. If he recognized even one of them, then there would be hope of getting the rest of his memory back.

"Hi," Mr. Stark said after a moment, a soft smile on his face and Peter's shoulders slumped; his voice was polite and contained, not something Mr. Stark ever reserved for the people he cared about. Peter reprimanded himself for getting his hopes up so fast.

"Hi, Tony," Pepper greeted back, her voice teary. She took his hand in hers, holding onto it tightly. "My name is Pepper."

"Nice to meet you Pepper," Mr. Stark replied, and Peter felt like crying again, just from witnessing the exchange happening before him. He noticed that tears were already streaming down Pepper's face.

"You, too," she managed with a choked voice. Almost instantly after that, she was turning around and leaving the room, her palm covering her mouth. "I need to pick up Morgan," was muttered as an excuse as she walked past the rest of them.

"Is she okay?" Mr. Stark asked, breaking the sudden quiet in the room. When Peter turned to look at him, his eyebrows rose up. "I've met you," he said, then glanced at Dr. Banner, "and you, too. Earlier."

Peter walked up to the cot and sat down on the side of it. "Yeah," he said, unsure what else he could say to that. "I'm Peter. This is Bruce."

"Nice to meet you."

And with that, Peter understood completely why Pepper had had to leave the room.

 

* * *

  
  
Peter ended up staying at the hospital for the rest of the night, leaning back and dozing off in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Pepper hadn't returned after her hasty retreat, and Happy had left to stay over at Aunt May and Peter's place, but Mr. Rhodes and Dr. Banner had stayed there with him.

The two men were fast asleep in one of the chairs and the sofa in the room, respectfully. Peter had given up trying some time ago. The plastic was too hard and the hospital room suffocating, and invasive thoughts kept racing through his mind. He would sleep once Mr. Stark got out, he had reasoned to himself in the end.

Peter was scrolling through his phone when Mr. Stark suddenly twitched, moving restlessly in his cot, pushing at the blankets. Peter glanced at him, then at the two other men in the room. The room was still dim, but now that it was the early hours of the morning it wasn't completely dark either, so he could see the others just fine; neither of them had stirred just yet.

When Mr. Stark moved again, Peter rose up, quietly crossing the short distance to stand by his mentor's bed. He jumped when Mr. Stark promptly pushed himself up into a sitting position, eyes scanning the room wildly.

"Mr. Stark?" he asked cautiously, causing Mr. Stark to twitch at his voice and turn to look at him.

"Something happened, didn't it?" he asked, looking Peter dead in the eye. Peter blinked at him, not catching his meaning.

"Something...?"

"Something _awful_ ," Mr. Stark clarified, emphasizing his words in a way that chilled Peter to his core. Mr. Stark shifted his gaze from Peter to his hands in his lap. The look in his eyes was haunted.

"Did you remember something?" Peter asked carefully, moving closer. He placed his hand on Mr. Stark's shoulder, like he had done back at home when he had comforted the man. But instead of relaxing, Mr. Stark flinched harshly, leaning away from Peter's touch.

 _"Please, don't touch me,"_ his mentor rushed out in one breath. Peter, alarmed, wasn't sure what to do. Even without the monitor on Mr. Stark's left displaying his EKG, Peter could tell that he had just sent Mr. Stark's heartbeat skyrocketing; he could hear his heart beating itself out of the man's chest.  
  
"Okay, okay," Peter said, going for soothing, but his voice sounded thin and panicky to his own ears. He raised his hands up so Mr. Stark could see them. "No touching." When Mr. Stark didn't calm down right away, he continued, "Please, I'm not gonna hurt you, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark frowned at him. His pulse was still racing, but it was gradually starting to slow down. "I'm not—"

"Yes, I know," Peter said, impressed at himself despite everything for having the guts to interrupt Mr. Stark. "I know you can't remember, but... _please_. I don't know what else to call you."

Mr. Stark eyed him warily for a moment before nodding.

"Okay," Peter breathed out, lowering his hands. "Sorry for freaking you out."

Mr. Stark shook his head. He looked a little embarrassed. "No, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on with me."

"It's okay," Peter rushed to console him. "We'll help you figure it out."

"I don't even know you guys. I don't remember anything," Mr. Stark argued. Peter frowned, watching his mentor. As far as he could tell, all of the earlier disconcerting confusion was now gone; Mr. Stark's eyes didn't fix on particular objects for unnaturally long stretches of time, the glassy look had disappeared from his eyes and it was easier to hold a conversation with him.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the confusion had been replaced by a very Mr. Stark esque paranoia and misery. Peter wasn't sure which way he should feel about that.

"We'll help you remember. And even if..." Peter steeled himself, not wanting to even consider the second option, but knowing that he had to. "Even if you _don't_ remember, we'll still be there for you."

Mr. Stark looked at him like he didn't quite believe him, but nodded at him anyway. "Okay," he said and carefully reached out with his hand. Peter met him halfway, grasping his hand in his. He sniffled; it was still unreal having Mr. Stark here, alive and....not exactly well, but as well as the circumstances allowed, Peter supposed.

"About what you asked earlier..." Mr. Stark said, pulling Peter out of his thoughts. He hastily wiped his face.

"About?"

"Whether I remembered anything," Mr. Stark clarified. Peter whipped his head from his hand to meet his gaze.

"Did you?"

Mr. Stark nodded again. "I think I might remember where I woke up before you found me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like the chapter?
> 
> Leave a comment/kudos. Thanks :)
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://cannibalpasta.tumblr.com/)


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